Trelawney
by Tracev
Summary: HPSS Trelawney predicts a soulmate in Snapes future. But he's going to do everything possible to make sure that her prediction is truly false.
1. Trelawney

Disclaimer: Full credit to JKR, HP/SS _implied adult relationship._ English is not my first language please excuse grammar and spelling errors. Unbeta'd. The spelling of Sybill's name is correct according to the books published in my country. Do not attempt to correct me. This will be about 10 chapters long. Should post once a week. Feedback welcomed.

Trelawney

By Tracevv & WittchWay

August 31,

Sybill Trelawney waved her wand lightly around her upstairs classroom, sighing heavily as the candles flickered to life. The fire in the hearth jumping at her command, a small flame burst forth from a peppermint incense burner and then died leaving only a thin greenish smoke stream withering in its place.

Trelawney turned and looked over the room, plump cushions littered the floor, squashy armchairs were cast around short tables, rows of teacups lined one wall. Other devices like crystal balls and decks of cards were on thick shelves that were on either side of the fireplace. A sea of colorful teacups and saucers lined another wall. It was a comfortable room, warm and snug, perfect for opening ones inner eye or catching a nap, both of which she had done on many occasions.

She cast a final look around the room and sighed again, something was missing within the room, the aura was off and had been ever since the summer break had started. It was something that had slowly changed within the room… the feeling had grown becoming bigger, needier, she couldn't quite put her finger on. It wasn't bad or a good feeling… it was more along the line of _what was to come_, something was going to happen, something great, something the castle seemed to need... it made her nervous but expectant.

Contrary to popular belief she could read an aura quite well, she could sense it and knew when something was wrong or when she was being lied to, it was the one sense she was the most sure of. Unfortunately it just wasn't a sense that could predict the future which is what the general population was after.

Sybill Trelawney twisted her hands in the thin fabric of her robe… the only thing she could do now was wait for the feeling to pass…. It simply wasn't one of those things you could fix.

The lone divinations teacher pressed her lips together and crossed to the small calendar on the wall and turned the page completing the final cleansing of the room. The last day of August was upon her this very day, tomorrow the students would come with their noise and loud talking, they would cloud the aura of the room, peace that was only truly here during the summer months would disappear.

But today was a special day or it had been…_in the past_. In her early years of teaching it had been a day she had looked forward to. A day spent reading tarots and tea leaves with her colleagues. A day the other teachers came for their annual predications of the upcoming school year. In her early years of teaching they had lined up willingly for it… now it was nothing more than a day she dreaded, a day she wished desperately she could get out of… but she couldn't, it would be like admitting defeat, something she wasn't quite ready to do.

She looked again, hesitantly to the trap door in the floor, wishing she could bar them from entering but she knew she couldn't, it was after all something she had asked for, _nay_ demanded in her teaching contract

Sybill Trelawney had been thrilled when Headmaster Dumbledore had offered her the position for divinations. Ecstatic really… a chance to teach at the prestigious Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was an opportunity of a lifetime. Of course she had attended the school as a child, though she was never a stellar student. Hufflepuff, she had fit in as one of the crowd, just like all other Hufflepuff's, though she did have a thirst to prove herself. Well not a thirst really more of a desire… if she hadn't been so shy, soft spoken, such a Hufflepuff…

Trelawney let loose a loud bark of a laugh, then stopped suddenly, struggling to remain composed… It was too sad. She had created this life and could no longer get out of it, the great-great granddaughter of the infamous Cassandra Trelawney... _indeed_.

Even after all these years the headmaster had insisted that it wasn't necessary to predicate the future of the school "_what would come would come_" he had rattled on but she _knew_ it was important. There was so much she could warn them about: everything from discipline problems, to potions gone wrong, to pranks and lies… anything could occur or cause damage during a school year. She knew she couldn't change the out come but at least the other professors would be prepared, a wand at the ready if you will.

So on this day, the day before the new school year was to start one by one the teacher ascended the ladder that led up to the Divinations classroom for their yearly round of predictions.

In the first few years the teachers had come willingly, some had even brought parchment and quill to write down the predictions or perhaps important dates. But after several years they had ceased doing so, it was then that doubt had started to seed in her mind. It was then that she realized what they thought of her and her craft, nothing more than a joke.

It was within those years her eyes and ears had been opened to their mocking banter, it was then she saw them for what they truly were…disbelieving fools. It was then she had hidden herself away in this tower, claiming that the muddle of the students and their raging hormones clouded her inner eye. It was then bitterness had set in… she knew she had cast true predictions in the past… she knew that was why Dumbledore had hired her…

She wasn't a stupid woman by any means. She knew the professors had gone to the headmaster as a collective group and had tried to get out of the yearly forecasts. She knew Dumbledore had decline, had defended her. At least Dumbledore believed in her. _That _she was confident in. She knew very well what they said behind her back, fraud and fake, imposter. But she didn't care Dumbledore believed and that was all she needed.

Sybill Trelawney slumped into her favorite chair and waited… they would be here soon. At Dumbledore's demand they would arrive for predications. At Dumbledore's demand they would sit before her as she cast the predications, some would thank her politely and take their leave. Some would dawdle and have tea with her, she would read the leaves and send them on their way. But it was the heads of house that were her toughest patrons.

Minerva McGonagall's arrived first… always prompt. Always with her spectacles placed firmly on the tip of her nose, she would sit opposite her tapping her foot in a frustrating fashion. Her arms crossed against her chest, she would sigh loudly signaling her boredom. The transfiguration professor didn't both to hide her rolling eyes, didn't hide her discontent. Sybill Trelawney would make her predictions short and sweet and very general… a transfiguration accident, _which was inevitable_, a forgotten quill, a lost book, lies and excuses of lost homework from the student, sneaking Gryffindor's, a howler.

Professor Sprouts of Hufflepuff always came next though she was supposed to have her reading first. She was notoriously late or confusing the times, it wasn't a prediction it simply was. But none the less she always smiled sweetly to the plump dear and told her the impending future: spilled dirt, a dead plant, a wayward student snogging in the greenhouses (which had come true each year), a new arrival of seedlings. Sprout was one of the few that truly left happy, one of the few that thanked her and always brought a gift of some exotic tea leaves she had harvested herself.

Professor Flitwick was next, Ravenclaws were a hard bunch to predict for. Their analytical minds were too ready to pick apart the common threads of a predication. Therefore Flitwick's was also short and sweet, a fire in the charm corridor, a wayward spell, a missing pupil, a missed placed book or feather, a visit from a friend. He always smiled at her as he took his leave, though she thought it was mostly because he was the largest flirt there was. He always patted her hand a little to long, letting his small little fingers rest to long on hers. Last year he had asked her for a drink down in Hogsmeade, she had barely been able to keep the startled look off her face… after all she should have known it was coming.

Headmaster Dumbledore always came next, she tried to steer the predictions towards more school related items instead of that mess with Voldemort, a lost hat, a student needing discipline, a surprise visit from a long forgotten friend. One years she had even given a prediction for Fawks of his burning day and had nearly been right. Dumbledore to always stayed for tea and the extra reading of leaves. He always smiled and patted her hand, though he never asked her for a drink down in Hogsmeade, _though she secretly hoped he would_… though she knew he never would. It wasn't a prediction it simply was.

Other teachers arrived during this period, Hagrid, Vector, Sinistra, Pomfrey, Pince, whatever Defense teacher was currently inhabiting the school. Filch the caretaker, came with a surprising regularity along with his cat of course. She wasn't keen on reading for cats but she did so only at his request.

But it was the last teacher that had her dreading this last day of August. The last teacher that always showed up but never said a word to her. His dark eyes, greasy hair, the sneer firmly planted on his face.

Professor Snape the potions master and head of Slytherin House.

He was dark and looming figure, a scowl forever upon his face; he was the only teacher that would not acknowledge her predictions. He never said thank you, never patted her hand (which she was thankful for), he simple stood during any period of pause and was gone. No tea leave reading request, no palm reading, no tarot card reading… she had been a fool when he first came to teach. She had thought he could be changed, that he would relax once he knew his future was improving, so she had predicted love and family, a prosperous job… she was sure it was only a matter of time before he would open up but he didn't,

Oh he came each year as requested. Or perhaps insisted upon by the headmaster. Oh yes he came. But he was not happy about it and did not hide the fact.

He sat in the same seat each year facing the window, his arms crossed over his chest in a huff. His foot tapping with annoyance.

She had to speak fast with him. It there was any hesitation in her prediction he took it as the end and was up out of his seat and down the ladder before she could protest she wasn't finished. Oh he came each year with no protest, _at least to her_. He came, he sat, but no one could make him listen.

He did not heed her warnings, he never wrote anything down, not even in the early years. He did not conduct his class or actions with her warnings. He lived his life as he always had, as if she didn't exist.

If professor Trelawney could drop one teacher with out the others protesting she would drop him in a heartbeat. He scared her… the growl he bit back, the clenched fists.

But she knew she couldn't, each teacher would insist upon the same treatment, though Sprout might still come_. She knew what they said, she knew what they called her._

So she did something with him she did with no other teacher, though it had been a gradual process, she began predicting thing about his personal life. Loudly, dramatically.

But nothing in his demeanor changed.

She predicted beautiful women, ugly women, moderate looking women.

All with no reaction.

She predicted affairs, marriage, children, love, hate, desire.

All with no reaction.

But it was her 17th year, this year and she was not looking forward to his coming up her stairs.

And so with all the calm she could muster Sybill Trelawney sat in her favorite chair, her shawl tied firmly around her shoulders, her robes nice and neat, her large spectacles clean and firmly on her nose, she flicked her wand and welcomed the final Professor of the day in her classroom.

Professor Severus Snape, head of Slytherin house, potions master.

TBC

Review Please.


	2. Trelawney

Trelawney

By Tracev & WittchWay

sssHPsss

And so with the same trepidation that he came each year professor Severus Snape shoved his way up the ladder and passed her with no acknowledgement, and sat in the chintz covered chair facing the window. He did not look at the Divinations professor, he didn't look around the room that was rarely seen by the staff of Hogwarts. He sat silently and stared out the window into the blue sky, watching the afternoon light come into it's own glory.

Trelawney smiled as she always did to her colleagues and patrons, she would not be intimidated by this man. She had two goals for today's meeting, it would be the quickest of her career and the most outlandish. She knew things about him, things the other professor didn't. She knew he stalked these halls late at night, she knew that he went to the gates of Hogwarts and disappeared for hours at a time. She knew he came back looking worse for wear, once with a busted lip. She had seen it with her own eyes as he swayed up the steps of the school, She could only imagine what else he was up to.

She had spent most of last night planning what she was going to say to him. What she was about to tell him weren't lies…they had come to her in a moment of pure inner sight and awakening… they were true that she would bet her life on.

"Ah…professor Snape so good of you to join me…" she smiled brilliantly giving him her best misty voice but he took no notice. His eyes glazed over in boredom, bordering on contempt.

She touched the crystal balls with the tips of her fingers and watched slowly as the clouds swirled and hissed their way across the large crystal orb, shadows ebbing at the outer realm.

"I'll begin my dear as soon as you touch the crystal ball, giving it a feel for you aura." She sat straighter, she had never asked him to touch the crystal ball, had never asked him in any way to participate; no tea leave reading or palm readings, she had never touched the man in anyway.

But he would participate today that she would make sure of.

She eyed him brilliantly, her small eyes enlarged by the spectacles upon her face. He glared at her, his arms crossed over his chest, she thought she heard a low growl in the hollow of the mans chest and was quite sure a protest was to come forth but there was none.

His dark eyes sent daggers through her, but she didn't care, she would not be scared off or detoured by this man, she locked her own superior glare on him and sat up a little straighter still and looked down her round nose at him.

Slowly a hand snaked out from under his robes and hesitated in mid air over the crystal ball. It was a battle of wills as the two glared at each other, Snape defiantly and Trelawney with all the courage she could muster. She held firm in her seat, watching his hand hover in mid air, his long spinally fingers stained yellow with potion ingredients and nicotine.

She leaned back suddenly, fearful that he would strike her.

Snape smirked as a single finger touched the clouded glass… leaving a smeared greasy fingerprint behind.

Professor Sybill Trelawney suppressed a shiver and ignoring the smear on her precious crystal ball and began her predictions of the potions professor upcoming year.

"I see brilliant things for you this year my dear man… " She began like she had every other year, she took a deep breath preparing to burst forth with what she had written out last night but it didn't come… instead she realized how much her throat hurt and had been hurting. She didn't quite feel like herself that she was sure of. She could feel the air in the room shift. The same air that been bothering her, teasing her with its pending tale. She shifted in her seat, her eyes felt as if she could not see out of them properly. She hiccupped, "…a soul mate."

Trelawney sucked in a deep gust of air, that had not been on her list of predictions… it hadn't been what she meant to say at all.

She didn't know why she said it but something about it seemed right. It seemed to be what needed said. Shoving her hands in her robes, chewing on her bottom lips she knew she had to go on and quickly or he would disappear down those steps not to be seen till next year.

"A beautiful boy…oh" she trailed off, Sybill tried to calm herself and begin again, her mouth moved of its own accord, this had happened before. Words had dribbled from her lips that she had not meant to say. Words she had never even thought of before nor would she have associated with that individual. She shut her watery eyes for a long moment… and when she reopened them they were clear and wide.

Her voice lost its mistiness, it had become throaty and deep… her back straight, her trembling hand had stilled as she again touched the crystal ball, dragging her chipped nail across the glass. The swirl of clouds shifted and darkened, red and green smoke edged forward, figures of cloaks, of wands, darker figures lay in the shadows, long silver beards and wolves crept forward.

"He's the one you've been looking for. He's the…one…. The first one you see on the day of tomorrow."

Trelawney whimpered, her throat, her voice box echoed its own thought, "The first one is last one. In debt no more you be. For he is the seed of your soul…betrayed and right is wronged." she could feel more struggling to get out. More trying to pry her lips apart but she was not going to let it.

She wasn't going to let them think her crazy no more. She knew what they said…Bowing her head, she tried to catch her breath, to calm the chill that went up and down her spine. She had to finish this with what she had originally intended … she just wished he would go.

She stuttered, trying to say what she truly meant but it wasn't forth coming. Looking up, her face twisted in fear that she would spill something even more ludicrous, she pressed her lips together firmly. She would nod for him to go… to leave her classroom, to forget her predictions, she would admit defeat now and forever if he would just leave.

Shaking, gasping, she opened her eyes to see him watching her. Actually looking at her…Trelawney shrunk back, he had never… in all his years looked at her.

But he was now, intently.

His body sat rigidly in its squashy chair. His arms dropped to his side. He stood suddenly turning to look at her.

His black eyes narrowed, he moved swiftly hovering over her, he looked down his long nose at her. She thought perhaps he would yell at her, sear her with his fiery Snape temper… but he didn't, he held her glaze for a moment to long and then suddenly brushed by nearly knocking her out of her seat.

She heard him kick the trap door open, his heavy boots on the rungs of the ladder. He was a quarter of the way down the ladder with only his head still above the floor when he uttered the first and only words he ever would to Professor Trelawney "I won't be back next year."

And then he was gone.

Tears leaked their way down professor Trelawney's face, scared tears, tired tears…She took a deep breath breathing in the scent of the room the peppermint, sage, spices of tea and lemons, sweet sugars… Wishing she hadn't left her sherry bottle up in her private rooms she shut her eyes in despair.

She took another shaking deep breath and settle back in the chair, her favorite chair. Her eyes fluttering one last time before sleep found her.

TBC…


End file.
